Comfort Foods
by Charon the Sabercat
Summary: Inspired by BlackHellCat. Bumblebee's chubby for a reason. He'd want you to think it's "baby fat", but really, it's much worse... Written quick, feel free to be mean.
1. Chapter 1

Comfort Food

Why Bumblebee stays chubby.

Lead sulfide crystals. Big and flavorless and gritty with ores the dull gray of most Earth metals, but Bumblebee mercilessly tore into it anyway. His mouth was so stuffed with pulverized lead he could barely chew, just the way he like it. If only he had time to savor it.

It was late.

Very late.

So late he'd probably get time in the brig if he was caught.

He hadn't gotten caught yet, though, and that knowledge kept him lazing in front of the Big Fridge night after night. Of course he hadn't gotten caught yet. Nobody on the entire ship cared enough to check on him when he was awake, much less when he was trapped in the recharge chamber, quivering from nightmar-

Tubing threatened to burst in the corners of his optics. He flinched and stuffed more galena in his mouth, drowning out the sorrow in meager flavors and textures.

He slumped in his spot in front of the Big Fridge, his arms near-freezing from constant contact with the food inside and his tank burning hot trying to burn off as much fuel as it could before Bumblebee could eat more. He allowed himself to stare at the Big Fridge for a few precious seconds, his mind finally contented and quiet.

_This is why you're always captured. Because you're slow, weak, and fa-_

He dove in for something to drown out the sobs collecting in the back of his throat. Congealed energon (Spike called it Lightning-Flavored-Jello, whatever Jello was) was the closest, meaning it was soon being poured down Bumblebee's throat tubing without any regard to taste. He only stopped when he felt his capacitors freeze up and energon collecting in the back of his neck. He forced back the urge to vomit. He really liked his teeth.

_One of the few parts of me I **do** like._

He almost reached for the last thing in the Big Fridge, a huge slab of oil cake Jazz had made for Optimus Prime's birthday (Carly's idea; Optimus' true birthday wasn't for another 6,000 years on her calendar), before a lurching in his tanks forced him to the floor. He tucked his limbs in and rode out the contractions of his tanks trying to expel the horrid mix of stale energon, lead crystal powder, and even Cadium acryllic paint he had stolen from Sunstreaker in a moment of desperation. Meanwhile, he mentally screamed at himself, _you almost stole Prime's cake! Prime! The one person on this Primus-forsaken ship that acknowledges you outside of battle, and you try to steal his food? Bumblebee, how could you? You really are worthless. You don't belong on this ship, you belong in some old lady's garage so you can drive her to the Bingo hall on Saturdays, what kind of a warrior are y-_

His cheek was wet. His optics snapped back on (when had they turned off?), hoping to see spilled high-grade or melting oil cake or something other than-

Tears. He was crying, and he was too sick to eat it off.

The ball he had rolled himself in became tighter, the spasms got worse, and Bumblebee was too ashamed to move.


	2. Chapter 2

Comfort Food

Originally a REALLY long one-shot, but I had to break it up. I REFUSE to have an issue like this fixed with the dreaded "reset" button. I'm sure a few of you readers would agree with me on this.

On another note, while the reviewer Irismagic is right, Bumblebee is not bulimic. He's a compulsive overeater. I had a feeling that might get lost in the quagmire.

* * *

"How long has he been doing this?"

"I don't know." Red Alert slowly pulled the camera off of Bumblebee's form. He'd suspected the spy of overeating for human months now; he should have lost his sparkling insulation vorns ago. He'd never gotten proof of it on camera until 2 weeks, 4 days ago when Wheeljack had tested an invention on Bumblebee's room and discovered his gigantic cache of food. Optimus had given him a reprimand for taking sustenance outside of his rations and donated the stash to the communal Big Fridge.

But then Bumblebee started going to the Big Fridge at night. It started out as tiny things; half-sips of energon and a shake or two of iron fillings. Red Alert, while dismayed, couldn't make himself turn Bumblebee in (lots of sparklings, himself included, found "midnight snacks" necessary while they were growing to keep hunger pangs away). Then the portions grew and grew, his diet got varied, and Bumblebee started to linger well into the morning hours, sitting and staring blindly at the shelves of food in front of him. Eventually he stopped caring what he ate; Red Alert saw Bumblebee eating food he positively HATED, almost reveling in the fact that it made him choke and sputter.

Red Alert had never done _that_.

He told Inferno. Inferno watched in shock and promised not to tell.

Jazz knew about in the next morning, which meant half the Ark knew about it by noon and Optimus Prime knew by night.

Which meant that the entire senior staff was now in Red Alert's security room, crowded around him and his favorite monitor and giving him nervous tank pains that were only eased by the fire truck at his side.

"Slag, man..." Jazz rubbed the side of his head in embarrassment, suddenly remembering every time he'd called for "Tubby" instead of Bumblebee.

"Poor leetle gahy..." Ironhide almost sighed and looked up to his friend. "What'er we gonna do with him, Prahme?"

"Whatever needs to be done to make sure this stops." Optimus straightened himself up and cleared his optics (when had they fogged up?). "I'm going to get him."

"N-NO!" Red Alert went to swivel his chair, but ran into Jazz's knee and Prowl's elbow first. "He'll know we've been watching him! If we betray his trust, he'll have no reason to stay loyal to the Autobot side! He might ally with the Decepticons an-"

"Yeah, Ah'm sure you know just how that works, _Red_!"

"That's enough." Optimus did that "leader" thing he did, effectively silencing the room with the position of his spine and the rumble of his voice. "I'm going to get him. Red Alert, make sure his room is locked. He will have to be observed for the next few days. Until we can find someone willing to watch him, he will stay in my quarters. You are all dismissed."

&

Bumblebee was jolted awake by a footstep near his back. Where was he, this wasn't hi- the fridge! He'd fallen offline in the commissary! Oh, SLAG, he was in trouble! BIG troubl-

He was in the air! "Gah!"

The sudden rush of fluids shorted his optic circuits, blurring his vision until he was upright. His arm was clutching a blue shoulder, aft cuddled in an elbow and legs dangling in front of a grill.

_Oh PRIMUS, kill me now..._

He wilted against Prime's shoulder and whimpered, ignoring the soothing words and warm hand rubbing his frozen joints.


	3. Chapter 3

Comfort Foods

Expanding the story. This one was really hard to write without turning it into pure plot exposition OR ruining future chapters. And, just as a note, I like "laser core" better than "spark", so beware the use of non-mainstream fan lingo.

* * *

"Please, Spike, I need it!"

"No, you don't."

"But _Spike_!" Bumblebee tried to sidestep the tiny human, but Spike only jumped back in the Autobot's way. "You don't understand! I need to eat! I'm hungry this time! Really!"

"Oooooh no, I'm not falling for that. You just had a whole cube of energon."

"It's not enough!" Bumblebee felt his laser core just to clench in his chest, and the responding ache in his tank brought him to his knees. "Spike, please, Suns-"

His throat tubing seized up before he could say another word. Every repressed emotion from his past 17 encounters with Sunstreaker threatened to shoot out of his vocalizer with that single syllable. His tank lurched, his laser core burned, his optics fizzled, his vocalizer really ripped itself in half trying to purge all of that unwanted thought out at once. He offlined his optics in concentration and placed his arms on the floor, forehead on his wrists. _One two three four..._

Spike had started stroking his horns. "Bumblebee, are you okay? What did Sunstreaker do? Did he hurt you?"

"N-no..." Bumblebee's voice sounded horribly weak. He rebooted his vocalizer and tried again. "S-Sunstreaker started talking about me, and really Spike, I just need one piece of oil ca-"

Spike's understanding expression quickly snapped back to anger. "No."

"BUT I NEED IT!" He didn't care if he yelled. "Honest, Spike, I will, all I need is one little taste, and I'll feel better, I mean it!"

"No you won't! You won't have one little taste, you won't feel better, and you don't mean it!" Spike shouted back, one hand still covering his ear. "And I'm NOT letting you eat anything until you go and talk to Optimus about this!"

"I CAN'T, Spike, I just can't!" The Autobot slammed his fists against the ground, sending Spike's legs scrambling for a firmer stance. "Do you KNOW what'll happen to me if I don't do this? They don't need more reasons to make fun of me-"

"-who's they?"

"THEY!" The force of the shout finally sent Bumblebee into tears. "Spike, please, you have to let me eat something ANYTHING I can't make myself stop and I can't tell anyone why I'm doing it because they'll laugh at me they laughed at me BEFORE they all knew about it please Spike I need it please please please..."

Looking back on it, Bumblebee figured he probably wasn't making any sense. But he didn't care. He just turned and ran back to his room as fast as he could before he could embarrass himself further. He collapsed on the recharge chamber the sobbed like a weepy femme for about 5 minutes, his laser core loosening a bit at the release.

And then he remembered that he was taller than Spike.

Much taller, in fact. So tall he could easily step over the human if necessary.

He stormed back into the commissary to be roughly stopped by a black hand. Jazz gently turned him around and lead him out the door. Before he could protest, the Porsche pulled out a key card and locked it behind him.  
"... but I need it..."

Jazz could only sigh and take him by the shoulders, walking him back to his room. "No. You don't."

His laser core tightened back up again in anger, grief, hunger, sadness, and every other emotion Bumblebee didn't want to have, and his hunger grew.


	4. Chapter 4

Comfort Foods

I SO wish Blue4dogs had left an e-mail address or something, because he/she got it right on the nose, man.

They'd cornered him. Brawn, Cliffjumper, Sideswipe, and (of all mechs) Sunstreaker had cornered Bumblebee in his room and demanded to know why he wasn't out on patrol, eating in the commissary, wasting time with the human, or even _smiling_ anymore. And they weren't nice about it.

He was in the corner. He was vaguely aware that he had tried to escape at least once, but couldn't make it past the twin's legs. Not one of them had laid their hands on him, though, driving him back into the wall with only their glaring eyes. They ORDERED him to talk, citing age and strength in their anger (but never the fact that, technically, Bumblebee outranked all of them). His tank ached, his optics stung, his shoulders moved so fast they rattled, and the one thing he didn't want ANYONE to know slipped out of his vocalizer after Cliffjumper lunged at him.

"I-I'm thinking about... resigning..."

There was The Quiet. Bumblebee hated The Quiet. The "oh slag, I'm gonna get my aft handed to me" Quiet. He ducked his head a little lower. The "Sunstreaker is involved" Quiet.

Brawn's face morphed into an outraged snarl. "You ungrateful slagger!"

He wished The Quiet was back.

"And just where do you think you were gonna 'resign' to?!"

"I-I-I-"

Cliffjumped sidestepped Brawn to get down to Bumblebee's level. "Answer him, you yellow-tanked coward!"

"Idon'tknow!" The tiny Autobot flinched under the collective scrutiny of his peers. "I-I was just thinking about it! I didn-"

"Well, you stop thinking about it right now!" Brawn jabbed a stubby finger in Bumblebee's face, doing more harm by not actually touching the smaller bot's face. "The Autobots have kept you, armored you, put up with your smelly human friend, fed you-"

"Oh PRIMUS, did they_ feed _you," Sideswipe sneered. Bumblebee's tank lurched in shame and, incredibly, started to twist in preemptive hunger.

"And you're gonna abandon all of us because they put a padlock on the Big Fridge! What kind of a mech are you?!"

Brawn was right, Brawn was absolutely right; Bumblebee slumped farther into his corner. He was ungrateful, how could he have forgotten everything the Autobots had done for him, now he had to stay, even though he was slow and frail and his stomach wanted galena NOW.

"WELL?"

"O-one that doesn't deserve to be here, sir..."

Oh Primus, his vocalizer gave out, making his last word quiver and squeak. He felt his superiors begin to move, each one ready to jump forward, but Sunstreaker beat them to it with a commandingly disappointed grunt. "**Are you crying**?"

The tiny one jumped. "No sir!"

The Lamborghini grabbed his horn and YANKED. "Bumblebee, I am **not** gonna pull your ugly little aft out of the line of fire if I catch you crying in front of the Decepticons, do you understand me?!"

"Yes sir!" He pressed the emotion as far down as he could so his voice didn't waver, but the sudden and sharp pain on his horn made his optic tubing burst and tears of wiper fluid and weak energon run down his face. The golden Autobots glare became sterner, and the grip on his head grew tighter.

"**Do you understand**-"

"_**LET HIM GO RAHGHT NOW**_."

The Quiet was back, now caused by the massive-feeling forms of Ironhide and Optimus Prime standing in Bumblebee's doorway. Sideswipe and Cliffjumper quickly backed away, Brawn only retreating to stand in front of his friends. Sunstreaker didn't move, holding Bumblebee horn tighter than before and wrenching a squeak out of him.

"Put him down now, Sunstreaker." Optimus squared his shoulders.

The golden one didn't back down. "He's talking about mutiny, Prime. He's talking about leaving the Autobots!"

"Put him down before I have you _removed_ from the Autobots."

Bumblebee fell to the floor in a crumpled heap. Sunstreaker quickly went to his brother's side, unconsciously hanging his hand just a little closer to his twin's. Ironhide took two steps and swept Bumblebee off of the floor, placing him in Optimus's arms.

"I will take this matter up with Bumblebee myself," said Optimus. "In the meantime, all of you are to double your patrol shifts for assaulting a superior officer."

"We didn't even touch him!" Cliffjumper snapped. "Only Sunstreaker did!"

"You loud-mouthed dwarf, I oughta-"

"TRIPLE your patrol shifts." The Autobot commander shifted Bumblebee onto his hip. "Report to Prowl in the morning. Get back to your bunkers."

Optimus and Ironhide stood by the door and watched them exit Bumblebee's room with warning glares, Bumblebee himself too ashamed to look away from Optimus' neck. Ironhide loomed in the hallway for a few more seconds before locking the door and heading for his and Optimus's shared quarters.

Bumblebee was almost happy it was quiet. He attempted to rest himself against Optimus's shoulder, but couldn't get comfortable. The previous events still had his wiring tied in knots and his tank begging him for anything made my years of volcanic heat and pressure. As they passed the first of the 7 security cameras between his and Optimus' room, though, the quiet suddenly turned into The Quiet. He dared to look up at his commanding officer; his eyes were aware, but unfocused. He was privately communicating with Ironhide, he knew it. Talking about his shameful lack of control, he was sure of it, he wouldn't have to quit, they'd kick him out along with Sunstreaker, why couldn't he just keep his vocalizer shut...

Around the third security camera, Optimus' body sagged. "Why did Sunstreaker lie about you wanting to resign, Bumblebee?"

If Primus were truly a merciful creator, he would make Bumblebee's laser core implode right then and there. Fire and lightning and glass shards and salt all shot up his back struts and made him flinch again. He couldn't say a word until the fourth security camera. "H-he... didn't... sir..."

Ironhide sighed, and Bumblebee promised to eat himself to death tomorrow. Neither of them looked at them, ashamed.

"Why, Bumblebee?"

Optimus' "leader voice" had the power to make Bumblebee's laser core quiver. "Disappointed leader voice" did the same thing, but made it hurt like the day he found his home in ruins.

"I... I-I didn't want to burden you, sir..." The quiver was back in his vocalizer, and it had locked up and refused to reboot. "I'm not good enough, I'm weak and slow and frail and fat and worthless and I'm not good enough..."

And he cried on the Leader of the Autobots, the designated Hand Of Primus. Optimus' hold became no tighter, but somehow more secure, and Ironhide had placed a weary hand on Bumblebee's shoulder.

By the fifth camera, Optimus spoke again. "Ironhide is going to manually offline you so that you can recharge peacefully. Is that all right?"

The tiny Autobot smiled through his tears. Manually offlining an Autobot was liking putting a human in a coma; no outside input, no images during recharge, so sensory information, nothing. A welcome distraction from everything Bumblebee was feeling, especially the hunger. He nodded without hesitation. "Yes, sir."

One second of slight pressure on the juncture between his head and his neck, and everything was quiet.

&

Bumblebee lost all tension in his body, legs falling between Prime's legs and head falling into a comfortable groove on his shoulder. The Autobot leader sighed and rearranged the tiny former to rest in one of his arms, tucking his limbs in like a sparkling before continuing the trudge back to his room.

Ironhide waited until they passed the sixth camera and wilted, dropping his shoulders and putting a quivering hand to his forehead. "To the Pit, Prahme, that was too easy."

"I know." The Prime gave himself a few seconds of leeway to stroke the space between Bumblebee's horns. "No wonder he's been eating like he has."

"Thank Prahmus he's _just _been eating like he has!"

"You're right. If it were any other 'bot, it would have been something much worse."

"Prahmus..." Ironhide gave in to his own vocalizer quiver, shedding a few tears before gathering himself together. "Sh-should we-?"

"He hasn't lied to us yet. If he denies anything happened, we'll get what we can from Red Alert," Optimus interjected.

"Oh..." Ironhide paused a moment. "You mean... about gettin'- oh no, Ah _was _gonna talk tah Bumblebee about how they've been talkin' to him tomorruh."

"Aaaah, okay. Sorry about th-"

"Ah know, Ah know, you got a good track record so far." Ironhide waved off the apology. "No, Ah was gonna ask if we should slag those little manifold-heads ourselves or let Prowl do it for us."

Optimus had to cover his own faceplate to stifle the laugh that came out. Ironhide smiled in gratitude and kept Bumblebee's body steady with his closer hand.

"Ah..." The seventh security camera and, finally, Optimus and Ironhide's room. Ironhide slumped on his berth and immediately fell offline.

Optimus placed Bumblebee on the wall side of his recharge chamber and crawled into the rest of the berth with care. He gave the little on a few soft strokes on the head.

"If only you knew, Bumblebee..."

Bumblebee's consciousness spiked when he felt a warm drip on his cheek, but then faded back into quiet.


	5. Chapter 5

Comfort Foods

I hope I can do this fiction justice. I really had to intention of going this far, but popular demand and inspiration just kept pushing me.

* * *

The humans had such a nice revelry call. It had a a resemblance to a tune, it was powerful, it was uplifting... so different from the loud, circuit-rattling buzz that had just gone off in his audio.

**All right, up and at 'em, let's go, one-two, one-two!** Jazz's "commander" voice didn't leave room for thinking. Jazz NEVER used the commander voice unless the situation was urgent.

Bumblebee jumped out of bed as soon as the words hit his CPU, tracking the signal and running to his commanding officer's location: the east entrance. Jazz was there, standing with his hands on his hips and his face in a scowl. The Mini-Bot snapped to attention out of habit, staring straight ahead and trying very hard not to yawn, shake, stretch, or otherwise move until instructed.

His panic slowly faded away, giving him room to think. How early was it? Was the sky usually pink whenever he woke up, and he had never noticed? He checked his internal chronometer. 5:30 am.

Woah.

This was really early.

Like, Academy early-

His processor jumped, and his body almost followed him. Drills. Jazz had woken him up to do _drills_. Oh no. His stomach twisted. This must have been about his binging. He was in trouble, he was in _trouble_, he just knew it...

Footsteps came from inside the Ark, followed by a very winded Huffer. "We're in trouble, we are in _trouble_, I just know it!" He turned back to the inside of the ship. "Guys, over here!"

"I TOLD you we were going to the wrong door!"

A loud clang from inside confirmed that Brawn was talking to Beachcomber (Beachcomber made a very unique noise when Brawn smacked him upside the head). Within a few minutes, Beachcomber, Brawn, Windcharger, Gears, and Cliffjumper were all in line beside Bumblebee, shoulders squared with each other.

"Who got here first?" asked Gears.

Huffer answered immediately. "Bumblebee."

"Shoulda known." Brawn broke the line to glare accusingly at the yellow Mini-Bot. "Thanks for warning us, pal."

The tiny one nearly flinched. Oh Primus, he'd been to distracted to tells the oth-

"It is not Bumblebee's job to tell you to turn on your tracker and find your commanding officer, soldier!"

Jazz's voice brought everyone back to attention. The Porsche strode to the front of the Mini-Bot line and took a deep breath. "All right, soldiers, speed drill! Transform and roll out!" He was in his alt-mode before the Mini-Bots could complain, leaving several hundred feet of distance between him and the others before they could get into their alternate modes.

Bumblebee didn't have time to think once again. He simply revved himself up and floored his accelerator, slowly catching up to the others. Doing so took all of his concentration. His wheels were wobbling unsteadily, his chassis was rattling, his engine overheated within minutes, and his windshield stung with sand flung at him from the other's wheels. Still, something inside him was determined to keep up with the older bots.

The others opened up their private channels.

"Ha ha! Try to get by me, Beachcomber!"

"Nah, I'm okay. Go right ahead, Brawn."

"I don't wanna do drills, I wanna bust some Deceptico-"

"If you keep talking like that, Cliffjumper, you're bound to attract the Decepticons! Oh, this is gonna be an awful day..."

Bumblebee let off the gas for only a moment, just so he could have the energy to respond-

His tank roared in defiance. Jazz is only doing this to spite you! He brought out the other Mini-Bots so they'd blame you for the drills! You could barely pass the drills at the Academy, what are you doing out here-

He started to fall behind. The tiny one panicked and revved himself up again, inching his way back up with the other Mini-Bots.

Before long, his motor drowned out his mind.

&

"Company, halt! Transform and fall in!"

"FINALLY!" Brawn immediately doubled over to his knees once out of vehicle mode. "We've been out here for hours!"

"4 hours!" Cliffjumper moaned. "I can't afford to stay out this long, I have a bet going with Sunstreaker!"

"My engine feels like it's about to melt!" griped Gears. "I'm gonna have to get my coolant flushed again!"

Bumblebee took a few extra seconds to come out of his alt-mode. He was absolutely certain he could feel his insulation smoldering off of his inner shell, keeping his temperature a few hundred degrees above normal. He had to fight the urge to pant, his entire CPU concentrating on keeping his mouth shut. He almost didn't notice Jazz marching up and down the line, inspecting the little Autobots with a blank visor and unreadable mouth.

"At ease, men."

The others let out a collective gasp of air and slumped. Only Bumblebee dared to stay in position; Jazz still had his "commander voice" on.

"Mini-Bots, that was an embarrassment to the Autobot cause! Huffer, you can go faster than that! Windcharger, keep it steady! Brawn, stop braking in front of Beachcomber!"

Brawn only chuckled.

"Beachcomber, stop letting Brawn brake in front of you!"

The blue bot waved his hand passively. "Nah, it's okay. He's just playin'."

"Gears..." Jazz paused for a moment. "No complaints. Good job."

Gears made a noise that sounded a lot like "nnnyoaoaooooohhhgit'snotworthit".

"Bumblebee, stop straining your motor!"

The tiny one's tank jerked. Tears formed on the edge of his optics, and he fought hard to swallow them."Permission to speak, sir!"

It was a small pause. Nearly indectable, but Jazz paused all the same. "Permission granted."

"I can't keep up if I don't strain my motor, sir!"

There was NO pause, a lack of pause _with emphasis_. Jazz's face suddenly filled his vision. Every inch of his willpower couldn't keep him from gasping in shock.

"Then get happy in the BACK, soldier! Mini-Bots, fall in! Road-Taker formation until we reach the lake! Transform and roll out!"

Too much, too fast, too hot, too loud... There was no way Bumblebee could transform fast enough to catch up with the others. His motor choked on him, forcing him to tone it down by a few gears and take a place at the back of the formation.

For a moment, it was all about driving. Keeping his pace steady, staying in line with the others. Making sure his circuits didn't melt, making sure he didn't look stupid in front of the other-

He wasn't in front of the others! That simple thought made his laser core unclench and his tank settle for the first time in decacyles. He didn't have to worry about looking silly in front of them! He was behind them! A warm wave of comfort settled over his form; it would have been more welcome had he not been overheating, but for now, he was happy in the back.

&

"All right, men, we take a ten-minute break before we head back to the Ark. Use your time wisely. Dismissed."

The Mini-bots separated with a collective groan, seeking out shady spots or rocks that looked enough like chairs to whittle away ten minutes on. Bumblebee transformed as fast as he still could, heading straight for the water-

"Bumblebee, attention!"

He snapped upright, and his tank churned again. Oh no, Jazz _was_ targeting him. What did he do? He should have kept up, he shou..l...d... woah...

He always thought Autobots were immune to human "dizzy spells". He was dead wrong now. His vision swirled and then almost totally faded, leaving only a fuzzy black-and-white dot in the center of his sight. His entire body numbed and tingled, and for .00007 seconds, he felt upside-down.

It all came back as quickly as it went. Jazz was standing in front of him, the back of his hand just a few feet away from his forehead.

"All right, dismissed."

WATER! He charged in and thought he had missed, realizing that it was all vaporizing at the touch of his shell. It took a good and solid two minutes before steam stopping rolling off his casing. He rolled onto his back and let himself float, vaguely away that the other Mini-bots were talking. He panicked once when he thought he heard his name, but he decided he didn't care and fell into stasis.

That was a very good stasis.

&

He barely remembered the drive home. His first fully conscious thought was Jazz leading him into the rec room and giving him a coolant-laced energon cube. Bumblebee planted himself on the sofa and sighed to himself, gingerly sipping at the energon that seemed too cold for his overheated circuitry.

"Aw, man, Prime, I can't do the drill sergeant bit anymore! It's hard!" The Porsche launched himself across the sofa, stretching his legs over the Mini-Bot's lap. Bumblebee only twitched a little before giggling and going back to his ration. "They're gonna be givin' me dirty looks for weeks!"

"Glad to know you still have that ability, Jazz," Prime chuckled from The Armchair (Prime's semi-officially designated chair). "How about you, Bumblebee? Feeling better?"

The tiny one nodded. "Yeah... yeah, a-a little bit. Too tired to feel sorry for myself..."

Optimus and Jazz half-laughed, the minor sadness in their tone going right over Bumblebee's head.

"How did the other Mini-Bots do?"

"Terrible! Fallin' outta formation, complainin' the whole way- Bumblebee's the only one who kept his vocalizer in line!"

Bumblebee blushed gently. "Th-thank you."

"That... is a bit distressing." Optimus rubbed his cube gingerly. "I'd hate to think we'd have to start drilling them again to keep them in top condition."

The sadness came back. It began to well up in his tank, but as Bumblebee put the cube to his lips, it began to flutter up and up and...

"S-sir?"

Jazz's head twitched, but didn't turn to face the little Autobot, almost as if he had forgotten he wasn't the "sir" in the room anymore. The Leader of the Autobots took his gaze away from Jazz's face. "Yes?"

"I-I..." He gulped in an attempt to speak clearly. "I'm sorry for my performance today, sir."

"Why is that?"

"W-well... I-I overheated and I couldn't keep up with the rest of the Mini-Bots." He lowered his head gently, staring into the contents of his cube. They were starting to separate, the silver coolant forming tiny beads along the walls of the cube.

Jazz's leg gently kicked at Bumblebee's torso. "Well, we don't expect ya to, man!"

"What?!"

The Porsche lifted himself onto his elbows. "Bee-bot, you're tiny! You're not built to keep up with us, man, you're built to fit into air ducts and-" (he ran two of his fingers along the back of the sofa to demonstrate) "-run around on toppa ceilin' supports and stuff like that!"

"Wars cannot be won just with soldiers, Bumblebee." Optimus took a quick sip of his energon. "You are here because of what you can already do, not what you think you should be able to do."

Bumblebee was floored. They... like him already? Jazz reached up and gave the little one's head a rough rub.

"You _do_ have to burn that insulation off, though." Optimus took another sip. "You'll have to run drills with the other Mini-Bots until you burn off enough to keep your temperature stable."

And Bumblebee was floored once again, but for a different reason. He leaned back into the sofa, instantly sobered. "Yes sir."

"Get happy in the back, Bee." Jazz threw himself off of the couch and was nearly out the door before he remembered to add. "It'll be Prowl tomorrow."

Slag. Bumblebee downed his cube in one gulp. This was gonna be a rough week.


End file.
